


Russian Vodka and Sex on a Cold Night

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: British TV Celebrities RPF
Genre: Drinking, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Bag Sex, Touching, Vodka, closeness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 20:39:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: While making From Russia to Iran: Crossing Wild Frontiers, Levison Wood is stopped for the umpteenth time in the notoriously dangerous Russian region of Dagestan, with he and his crew being forced to stay in the village of Andi for the night. A local policeman who picks them up allows them to stay in the cold, empty police station. But they are not the only journalists there - Simon Reeve also happens to be there during the filming of his Russia series for the BBC. And it's very chilly inside!





	Russian Vodka and Sex on a Cold Night

When Levison Wood was stopped by police on his way to the village of Gagatli, he thought it might mean the end of his journey - he and his crew were stopped at practically every checkpoint by heavily armed men and, sometimes, every checkpoint felt like it might be his last. You could have taken that statement one of two ways; either because it would be his last and he would have to turn around and head back home, or it would be his last because those guns looked awfully serious. He had hoped for neither but, if anything, the former.

It surprised him, therefore, when the policeman who had brought him back to Andi offered him a bed for the night - even if it was in the local police station, in a _cell_ . The Russian region of Dagestan was notoriously dangerous and was no place for foreigners, or _anybody_ in fact, to be out at night. The crew had made themselves at home in a couple of empty cells by the entrance to the station, but they could be rather rowdy and Levison preferred solitude. He was almost at the end of the row when the policeman grabbed him by the arm.

"There is... already reporter in here. Other British reporter," he blurted, in broken English. And then he turned away, leaving Wood to his own devices. The Major had noticed other people who didn't seem to be criminals hunkered down here for the night. But _another_ British reporter? Who would be daft enough to come all the way out here?

He warily stepped into the room, wondering who - if anyone - might be in there. The room was desperately bleak. Flicking an old-fashioned light switch upwards, an electric bulb which looked like it was installed sometime around the time electricity was _invented_ fizzled into life. It hummed. And a man sat on the floor in a sleeping bag was illuminated and brought into sight.

Levison grinned when he finally realised who the policeman had been talking about. "Simon Reeve, as I live and breathe!" he announced.

Simon blinked, adjusting his eyes to the light, having not been fully asleep. "Levison Wood, the famous _poet_ ," he laughed.

They both chuckled, a tad nervously. They didn't really, if truth be told, know each other. "It's amazing how we've never really bumped into each other before," Wood observed, unclipping his own belongings from the bundle strapped to his back and shaking them out, the many tranklements hitting the ground. He crouched down, stationing himself by Reeve, and smiled.

"I know, right? We would probably have a _lot_ to talk about!" he beamed. "So what brings _you_ here?"

Flashing a smile that was far too pearly white considering the fact that he hadn't been able to clean his teeth properly for weeks, Wood explained, "I'm trekking across the Caucasus. I'm heading for Iran."

"My god," Reeve cooed. "That's incredible. Makes me feel like a fraud," he added, snorting.

"You?"

"I'm making a programme for the Beeb about Russia. It's been far more trying than I ever could have imagined."

Levison rolled his eyes. " _I'll_ say. FSB?"

"Followed us everywhere. But _you_ \- you must have really seen some sights."

"We had some pretty scary moments in Chechnya," he jumped back slightly, startled as Simon put his hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but he soon settled into it. He was _always_ on his guard - he couldn't help it.

The older man smiled sympathetically, "Crazy world."

"Crazier by the minute and more of it to come. I've got to be up in four and a half hours," the explorer glanced at his watch, with its large luminous dial - as well as _resembling_ a diver's watch, it was fully waterproof and _perfect_ for the kind of adventures he embarked on. Because Levison was _always_ as prepared as he could be and endeavoured to have every last thing he would ever need on his trips - a hark back to his military days and an attitude which was to serve he and his companion very well this evening.

He looked upwards from his own attire which, unlike his fancy watch, was beginning to get a little scruffy (that was an understatement - he hadn't showered in _days_ ) and assessed the prison room in all of its glory, from its peeling plaster to the dingy crumbling brickwork. His eyes were becoming extremely heavy now. He rubbed them with his sore and dirty fingers, the round organs feeling undoubtedly as worn and exhausted as the _rest_ of him was.

" _So_... if you don't mind...? My apologies..."

"Of course, Lev - you've got an early start."

They nodded to one another. Simon was an incredibly agreeable sort with the kind of youthful enthusiasm usually knocked out of men by the time they were half his age. He had a boyish charm, foppish hair and looked like he was on some kind of permanent YTS scheme for journalists. Levison was _quickly_ warming to him, in more ways than just one. It could be _terribly_ lonely during these walks, if you know what I _mean_.

Levison turned out the light and returned, in the darkness, to his things, and began to stretch out his bedding across the floor. Yawning, he then clambered into it. The last thing he heard was a cheery "Goodnight" from Simon - but the _next_ thing he heard, as he awoke not over an hour later, was the loud chattering of teeth and noises coming from a man who clearly sounded like he was freezing to death.

"You okay, mate?" he called out.

"I'm so co-- cold," Simon stuttered.

"Maybe try some of this." Reeve heard a glugging sound as liquid rushed from one side of a bottle to the other, like waves lapping against a shore. Levison was handing him some Russian vodka. "It's the real deal - 70% proof," he added, "Not like that garbage you get from the supermarket.  _This_ should _really_ warm your cockles." The outside of the glass was frosted with condensation and the cold wetness almost burned Simon's skin as he retrieved the bottle.

"It's taking the edge off, but only that," the presenter shivered, sipping several gulps from the bottle.

"Well... You could always get into _my_ sleeping bag," Lev suggested, quietly. He was met with silence and wasn't sure whether Simon didn't quite understand what he meant or whether or not he was just simply stunned. "With _me_ ," he clarified. "I think it's a much higher tog."

"Gosh," Reeve almost seemed to giggle. "I _suppose_. If it's good enough for Captain Scott's men then it's good enough for me."

"So pure," Levison said in a friendly-mocking tone, unzipping the sleeping bag from head to toe and beckoning for Simon to join him.

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean..._ that I don't think that Captain Scott was thinking what _I'm_ thinking _now_ when he was huddled together between his men and the penguins." Even in the dark, he sensed that Simon was staring at him quizzically. "Here - forget the vodka," he took the bottle from his hand and placed it away from them, just at arm's reach. "And let me show you how we kept warm in the _army_." Wood wrapped his arms around the trembling man and guided him into the makeshift duvet - legs first, then arms, until their bodies were completely aligned, already radiating with heat but soon to create more.

Before anything else, Simon could feel Levison's beard scraping against the side of his neck as he breathed heavily into his ear. The many layers of clothing their only separation, their bodies were pressed together as if they were in a vice - tightly packed with neither party wanting to move. For one, it was _indeed_ warmer being together like this; for two, Simon had had not _nearly_ enough of the scratching of Levison's stubble against his sensitive skin, nor had he tired of the hot, ragged breaths dancing upon the shell of his ear. He felt significantly more heated and, yet, when sharp teeth reached up to bite his earlobe, he genuinely shivered again.

"Ho-- how did you keep warm in the army?" he stammered, but the cold had little to do with it, in all honesty.

"Let me show you," Wood's voice was hushed but it resonated and bounced off the walls. It was as if Reeves had heard it a thousand times as the Major went on to _show_ him the thousand different ways: he tugged at his earlobe and the outer surround of his ear, nipping and growling; with one hand he clasped at Simon's pert behind and dragged him close; with the other, he took a hold of his partner's hand and thrust it under his sweater, shirt and two undershirts, so that it was in direct contact with his chest, hairy and manly, and the feel of his rapidly beating heart.

"You're keen," there was a whispered laugh.

"It's been a long time," Levison rued, a sadness to his tone.

"I can't believe that," said Simon with surprise.

"I can't seem to hold a girl down. Girls love the _sound_ of an adventurer. At first, it's all excitement - wow this and wow that when I talk to them about what I do. But soon, they get tired of me never being around and who can blame them? I must be destined to be a lone wolf."

He found soothing hands rolling up and down his chest, caressing him lovingly and as if to take the pain away. However, the mood soon changed. "But even wolves have to mate," he hissed, resuming where he had left off. When Levison tried to push his own hands into Simon's tangle of tops and shirts, he was met with resistance.

"I'm sorry - it's too cold!" he cried.

Instead, Levison undid Reeve's canvas belt and undid his fly, a hand now snaking south rather than north and finding its way around a cock which was beginning to stiffen. "You've no complaints about me touching you _there_ ," he laughed as Simon writhed against it.

"Your hand is keeping it warm," he told him, choking as the grip tightened.

The soldier hadn't realised that, in this time, his friend had gotten gradually nearer, and he felt an almost tangible buzz from the shock that was their lips meeting and his beard rubbing against Simon's much smoother face. A tongue darted between his lips, flicked at his own and he groaned, involuntarily. He could taste the vodka. It seemed that the innocent-looking Reeve was perhaps more learned in the ways of love than he appeared. After all of the travelling that he, himself, had done, Wood knew full well though that globetrotting made _men_ out of _boys_. This one could not nearly be as naive as he came across.

And the older man was becoming insatiable now, aroused by Levison's primal desires and the way that he was so physically rough and rugged. The unwashed scent of his was enough to put most people off - especially the _women_ he spoke of - but, to him, it was a _lure_ \- Wood was a _real_ man and a man to be admired. Simon's hands were all over him now, running over the front of his trousers and back up to his chest again, grasping into the dark curls of his chest hair, now becoming damp with the sweat as the pair rapidly warmed up - my word, it seemed like the plan was _working_ \- and rolling his fingers between them, well and truly smitten with Levison's gorgeous body.

"Ohh... Simon," he moaned, their lips finally parting.

"And there's _me_ thinking you had to be up in the morning?" Simon said, sarcastically, though breathless.

"The adventure can wait," he gasped, lost in the pleasure he was receiving as Reeve fondled him frantically through his clothes.

"Levison... the adventure's only just _started_."

 


End file.
